Monday, July 16, 2012

The Blog I've Been Dreading

"I've spent the last 6 months doing whatever it takes to keep my dog alive. There isn't a day, or a moment that I'm not concerned with how she is doing, what she is doing and how she could be doing. Since being diagnosed with cancer, all of my strength, passion and love has been."
Those were the words to the last post I was typing on February 4th. It was also the night I had to say goodbye to my best friend, my love, my Indi. I find it ironic that today, after 5 months, and on what would have been her 11th birthday, that I chose to write again.

Indi, 5 days before she died. 
I think it's taken me so long to write this because I was afraid to read what I wrote. I remember trying to describe how difficult it was to care for a family member on borrowed time. I ignored my blog because I knew those words still lived there. Opening the draft would be like opening up memories to a night I wan't ready to face again.

While I'm not about to rehash the anguish of losing Indi, (thanks to Stephanie for lending me this book, - it helped get me through the stages of grief), what her death has taught me is the precious value of time. I've learned what is and what is not a priority and while I'll never stop sweating all the small stuff, I've learned to let go of some of the things I can't control. Cancer may have beat us in the end, but the three of us gave it one hell of a fight.

As I finish this blog, I keep thinking of this lyric in Glenn Frey's 80s hit, You Belong to the City: "so much has happened but nothing's changed." This may seem odd, but when it comes to love, nothing has changed. We still love Indi, that indeed will never change, but we've also found room to love another dog. As I type this Dublin, a 5 month old mystery mut, vies for my attention, sitting on the same couch I shared with Indi, wrapped in the same blue blanket.
Dublin, 5 months

I expected to share our home with a dog again, but not for at least a year. I gave myself a timeframe that wasn't necessary and I'm happy I didn't stick to it. Dublin has brought us so much laughter and joy -  more in this last month than I've probably experienced in a very long time. And while I wish I didn't worry so much about her (I guess I'll never stop worrying) it's been so wonderful to love and care for an animal again.

I'd like to think Indi had a hand in bringing Dublin to us, but knowing Indi, she would have no part of sharing her house with another dog! So, I think we just got lucky.

My hopes for Dublin are many. My main hope is that she knows I will do everything I can for her to make sure she is safe, happy and loved. The love she has given to us is overwhelming and is slowly mending my heart.


  1. Dublin's a great name.

    RIP Indi..

    so glad you're at a better place with this.

  2. So glad you wrote this, Jen. I've been there, three times now - two times just in the last three years. We also couldn't help but get a new corgi love to help fill the hole - but know that no dogs will ever replace Rocky, Harrison, and Casey - and at some point, McGee. Loving and losing a dog is one of the toughest, yet valuable experiences someone can go through, and it makes us stronger, and I think, more compassionate, and capable of love for humans. Thinking of you.

    1. Thank you Jenna for understanding. I'm happy to know that the love and memories you've had for your three hasn't faded. I think that is what scares me too - I will forget what it was like with Indi.

  3. Every dog I've had fills my heart and breaks it. But I've come to a place of realizing, strangely, that the heartbreak is actually a very small price to pay for all the heart-fullness.